I Became the Female Lead’s Current Obsession - Chapter 33

Hou Xue had always understood what Jiang Qing meant.

It was a secret—a forbidden one.

That kiss, to Jiang Qing, was likely nothing more than an awkward and uncomfortable mistake. Perhaps it had even solidified her resolve to keep her distance.

Just sisterly affection—like Jiang Qing had said.

It had always been Hou Xue who had misunderstood, who had let herself fall for something that wasn’t there.

She never wanted to hurt Jiang Qing. Not once. So when it hurt, she’d rather take the wound herself.

It stung, and it was exhausting.

But it was okay. She could still afford to wait.

…

By the time the two of them returned to the villa, the barbecue gathering had already ended. Jiang Qing’s messaging app had been flooded with texts and media from Jiang Xing and Xu Miao.

Aside from their rambling messages, there were plenty of photos: group shots, messy grilled skewers, and snapshots of the night.

Jiang Xing had sent a voice message. Jiang Qing didn’t open it immediately. Instead, she went to the kitchen and bought two bowls of seafood porridge from the vending machine.

Not fancy, but passable.

While Hou Xue went upstairs to shower, Jiang Qing busied herself in the kitchen.

Ever since they’d stumbled upon Zhuo Tao and Fan Ya, neither had spoken a word about it. They’d both remained silent, pretending it hadn’t happened.

Jiang Qing washed two sets of bowls and chopsticks, then dropped the vacuum-sealed porridge into boiling water to heat up.

Leaning against the counter, she finally tapped on Jiang Xing’s voice message.

“Hahahaha, Sis! You missed out big time!”

“Yuan Yu’s singing is horrendous, seriously! No wonder he never joins us for karaoke!”

The next message was a full sixty seconds long:

“♪ Love really takes courage—to face gossip and rumors… as long as I see one approving glance from you, my love has meaning… we all need courage, to believe we’ll be together… ♪”

Yuan Yu really couldn’t sing. Not a single note was on pitch. But every word was clearly enunciated—like even if he couldn’t carry a tune, he still had to get the lyrics right.

“♪ …I’m willing to go to the ends of the earth with you… I know it won’t be easy… I keep persuading myself… the thing I fear most is hearing you say you want to give up… ♪”

The pot of water began bubbling and rattling. The lid wobbled from side to side, but Jiang Qing stood frozen, lost in the recording, oblivious to the scene in front of her.

Hou Xue came downstairs, towel-drying her hair. She had come for a glass of water, but instead saw Jiang Qing staring blankly at a pot on the verge of boiling dry.

She hesitated but walked over and turned off the stove.

“The water’s about to dry out,” Hou Xue said plainly, then turned to leave.

Jiang Qing snapped out of it. She instinctively reached out, wanting to stop Hou Xue—but her hand stalled midway. She turned the gesture into resting it against the edge of the counter instead.

Hou Xue was wearing a long robe from the villa’s wardrobe.

Jiang Qing thought of the suitcase full of clothes she’d brought but found herself unable to say anything. “Ah, I was heating up some seafood porridge. Do you… want some?” Her palm pressed hard against the

counter’s sharp corner—it might have broken skin, but her expression didn’t flinch, as if nothing had happened.

“No, thanks,” Hou Xue replied, pausing only for a moment.

“Tch.” Jiang Qing frowned slightly, then gave in. She grabbed Hou Xue by the wrist. Her hand was still warm from the shower, a stark contrast to Jiang Qing’s cold fingertips. “I made two portions. Washed two bowls.”

Hou Xue glanced back at her. After a moment, she pried Jiang Qing’s hand off and sat down at the counter—as if compromising simply to avoid a longer entanglement.

Jiang Qing should’ve felt content that Hou Xue was obedient—but for some reason, a sense of irritation surged within her.

Why did she always give in so easily?

Then again… she realized she was contradicting herself.

Hou Xue didn’t look at Jiang Qing, instead gazing down at the marble pattern on the countertop, as though the stone was far more interesting than her gloomy stepsister.

Feeling rebuffed, Jiang Qing pouted to herself and turned to pour the porridge. She set a bowl in front of Hou Xue.

“There’s no sweet porridge, just this.” She grabbed the seasoning box from the cabinet and added chili oil to Hou Xue’s bowl—just two spoonfuls. This body couldn’t handle spicy food well.

Hou Xue stirred the porridge, took a tentative sip, and frowned the entire time—making Jiang Qing’s heart rise into her throat.

It didn’t taste that bad… right?

“Is it not good?” Jiang Qing asked cautiously.

Hou Xue shook her head, but the spoon in her hand moved toward her mouth more and more slowly.

“If you don’t want it, just forget it,” Jiang Qing said softly—she had no intention of forcing her.

So Hou Xue stopped eating and turned to go upstairs again.

This time, Jiang Qing had no excuse to stop her. She could only watch helplessly as the girl walked away.

Staring at the untouched porridge, Jiang Qing felt her chest sink. After finishing her own, she poured Hou Xue’s down the drain, washed the bowls, showered downstairs, and finally made her way to bed.

The pink gardenia petals had been swept off the bed by Hou Xue.

She was curled up by the edge of the mattress, like a small creature with no sense of safety, instinctively seeking warmth.

She looked pitiful.

Jiang Qing always found herself pitying Hou Xue. She couldn’t stand seeing her so vulnerable.

At first, Jiang Qing had chalked it up to her “standard righteous reader response.” But lately, things had started to drift off course.

After all that reflection…

She had only one thought.

She wanted to hug Hou Xue—to pull her into her arms.

But she couldn’t.

Jiang Qing slid into bed and shivered.

So cold.

Why was it so cold?

Was Hou Xue cold, too?

She reached for the bedside panel and turned off the light.

In the darkness, Jiang Qing couldn’t resist glancing toward Hou Xue.

She was lying by the floor-to-ceiling window.

Moonlight spilled through the glass, illuminating the delicate curves of the girl’s form.

Outside, the narrow stream shimmered beneath the moonlight, reflecting gently into the room.

Jiang Qing pressed the control again, drawing the curtains shut.

“Goodnight,” she said. Her low voice felt oddly loud in the stillness, yet to Hou Xue’s ears, it was like a soothing lullaby—like a sleeping spell that finally helped her drift into peaceful sleep.

Hou Xue had nothing on her mind now, sleeping soundly.

But Jiang Qing couldn’t stop thinking about how they were sharing a bed.

It felt… significant. Too significant. Enough to make her restless. And she was still cold—desperate for warmth—so she shuffled slowly across the mattress until she reached Hou Xue’s back.

The girl’s breathing was soft and even.

She’s asleep. It should be fine to be this close… right?

Jiang Qing, drowsy and dazed, thought hazily.

Hou Xue’s body temperature was normally on the cooler side, but that night, she felt unusually warm.

…

There was air conditioning in the villa, of course.

But Jiang Qing had convinced herself that as long as she didn’t acknowledge it, it didn’t exist. She slept straight through until late morning.

Groaning, she rubbed her temples and reached for the bedside controls.

The first rays of sun sliced through the drawn curtains and fell across the bed. At that moment, Hou Xue opened her eyes. Jiang Qing, having returned to her original sleeping position, was now lying far away—there was enough room between them for another person.

This built-in biological alarm clock was too accurate. And her head was pounding.

Jiang Qing stared blankly at the ceiling.

A while later, Hou Xue got up to wash. Jiang Qing remained still.

What should they do today?

Hou Xue returned quickly and lay back down in the same position, on her side, facing away. Just like the night before.

Jiang Qing got up and went to wash up, too.

On the sink counter were two toothbrush cups—one green, one blue.

Two towels hung on the rack: one black, one white.

Jiang Qing used the green cup, then grabbed the small black-cat-printed towel to dry her face.

Back in her previous life, Jiang Qing had used tons of skincare products daily. But after transmigrating into this story, her youthful, naturally beautiful face didn’t need much more than basic cleansing. She couldn’t help but marvel—fictional worlds really did have their perks.

Meanwhile, Hou Xue was in bed, managing accumulated tasks on her phone, her brows never relaxing. Some tasks clearly required more than a mobile device. She considered whether she should invest in a portable mini-computer.

Just then, Jiang Qing’s phone started buzzing.

It was on the nightstand next to Jiang Qing’s side of the bed. In the quiet room, the vibration was especially jarring.

Hou Xue got up to check. The caller ID read: “Xu Miao.”

Without delay, she opened the door and entered the bathroom, phone in hand.

“Xu Miao’s calling.” She lifted the phone just as Jiang Qing turned and stared at her in shock.

What now?

Hou Xue looked down at herself—nothing seemed amiss. But as she looked back up, she noticed something.

Jiang Qing was holding her towel.

“…Why is Xu Miao calling this early?” Jiang Qing quickly hung the towel back, snatched the phone, and answered before Hou Xue could say anything embarrassing.

“Hey, Miao-Miao.”

Hou Xue raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe as she watched Jiang Qing.

At first, Jiang Qing’s expression remained neutral. But soon, it grew serious.

“I’ll be right there. Don’t panic—didn’t Xiao Qian already stabilize? It’s going to be okay.”

Hou Xue’s heart sank at the name “Sun Qian.”

“Sun Qian had a heart attack. She’s in the hospital now,” Jiang Qing sighed. “I need to go check on her. I’m sorry—can you help clean up here a bit?”

“…Okay.” Hou Xue was momentarily stunned, then stepped aside to let her pass.

“Actually, the suitcase… it’s full of clothes I brought for you,” Jiang Qing muttered as she walked out. “You wanted to know, right? Just take a look…”

Then she hurried downstairs, flustered.

After being caught using Hou Xue’s towel, and now admitting she’d packed a whole suitcase of clothes just for her… it was all too much.

If Hou Xue thought she was insane at this point, Jiang Qing honestly couldn’t blame her.

The world really was too cruel.

Jiang Qing climbed into the car Han Lu had arranged and headed for the nearest hospital.

Just hearing Xu Miao’s voice had made her uneasy. Jiang Qing was genuinely worried.

Xu Miao had been the first true friend Jiang Qing made after transmigrating.

At first, it was forced due to the original Jiang Qing’s circumstances, but over time, Jiang Qing couldn’t deny it—Xu Miao was her friend now.

Some might call this a plot hijack, but from what she’d read of the original story, the old Jiang Qing had wronged Xu Miao badly. Toward the end, Xu Miao had begged her not to marry Nie Rui—pleaded with her

as a friend—but Jiang Qing had cut ties and never looked back.

But that version of Jiang Qing was gone.

Now, Jiang Qing was her.

And Xu Miao was her friend—whether the story knew it or not.